


Only Seconds

by bearseokie



Category: Monsta X (Band)
Genre: All Rights Reserved, Angst, Do Not Translate, Do not repost, Edging, Explicit Sexual Content, Gen, Loneliness, Monsta X Smut, Nipple Clamps, Nipple Play, One Shot, Romance, Sadomasochism, Smut, Swearing, Vibrators, blindfolding, mx smut, sex therapist! wonho, wonho smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-16
Updated: 2021-02-16
Packaged: 2021-03-18 16:55:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29493159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bearseokie/pseuds/bearseokie
Summary: Recommended a sex therapist by your friends to release extra stress, you never saw yourself actually going for it. As the waters grow deeper, you struggle to hold down your feelings during sessions with intense, emotional interactions that reach every nerve in your body; perfectly afflicted by Hoseok himself to open you up.
Relationships: Lee Hoseok | Wonho/Reader
Comments: 1
Kudos: 5





	Only Seconds

**Author's Note:**

> repost from my tumblr @bearseokie! feedback is appreciated :)

He was clear about his sessions before they even began. Sat across from him at the desk, glasses perched on the bridge of his nose, he read over his own writing.

“Things start off slow. We build a connection; trust. Starter lessons will be held before the process even begins. The first one focuses on your reason for being here. Not exact specifics, but an overall, moral reason for you needing the benefits of sexual therapy.”

The conversation was short with him during the first session, little eye contact as you fiddled with the strings of your sweatshirt. Blatantly unsure of yourself, his pen between his fingers moved at a quick speed, taking notes of every little reaction you made.

“I was recommended to see you by one of my friends,” you stated in a low voice. His posture was well-kept in the chair parallel to you, making your back straighten out.

“No need to sit formally,” he stated, eyes peering up from his clipboard the second he caught your relaxed figure moving. “This is about getting your stress-levels lowered. You can’t do that if this setting makes you feel as if you need to be on your best behavior.”

You sat in a state of wonder, remembering what office you were in - what room you were inside, the man sitting before you, and what his profession is.

“You don’t have to be good here,” he said with the click of his tongue, the foot crossed onto his opposite knee moving to the floor with a slow nod. “And this session is done.”

His body was substantial as he stood, expression authoritarian. You couldn’t read anything about him from an outward perspective, and that worried you most for upcoming sessions. Molt of outer layers, concern grew in your gut. The look of him was too pleasing to the eye.

-

“The second session will be our bond. We will go through a few exercises in order to fill in the blanks of your concern for what will follow with the foreseeable sessions.”

He stood before you dressed in less apparel than you could imagine on his body. Clothes hanging loosely from his build, he kept a calm disguise as he worked.

“How important do you find trust falls to be?” he questioned, hands in the pockets of his jeans as his head tilted, awaiting your answer.

“I-I guess they’re a good exercise.” you blabbed at him, a skinny smile on his lips when he moved towards you.

Pressing his palms into either side of your arms, he gave a gentle squeeze. Your eyes followed the rigid muscles flexing beneath his folded button-up, shooting back to his face for instructions.

“Do you feel my touch?” he asked, your eyebrows furrowing from the common-sense question.

“Yes, of course.”

“Of course,” he repeated in a smaller tone, pulling his arms back until only his fingers ran across the skin just below the sleeves of your shirt. Skimming the pads of the digits over your skin, the bumps from the chills running up your spine textured the soft surface. Receiving the reaction he was looking for, he hummed. “You feel my touch here. How do you feel?”

“Y-Your touch.” you stuttered, a confused look on your face from his misinterpreted question. His ambiance was more distracting than his bold chest in your view from the low v-neck. “I feel your fingers on my skin.”

“But how do you feel about my fingers touching your skin?” his eyes stayed the same whilst yours felt teary. His cold fingers were caressing such a small part of your body, yet gaining a huge effect that you hadn’t noticed until he mentioned it.

“I feel nervous,” you mentioned. “But bound.”

“Why bound?”

“I know that this is your job,” you stated, watching his lips perk out in thought. “That you do this regularly.”

“I’ve never touched someone before doing the trust fall,” he said, eyes fixed on the way your chest shuddered. “Are you still bound?”

Your feet rocked from beneath you, his hold firm to keep you upright. You felt composed though you trembled, his touch on your skin still light when he pulled you to your side, turning you around.

Standing in the middle of the room, the furniture was backed away against the wall, the open space making your breathing go unsteady. Replacing his hands on your arms where they were seconds before, the flushed feeling of facing him no longer ran through you, skin returning to a natural color without your detection. Noticed by him, he watched the skin on the back of your neck fade from pink to the energetic color, lips pulling into a smile you couldn’t see.

“From here,” he said, thumbs drawing circles on your skin to keep you stimulated and inside of the session. “You can safely fall back when I say go.” you nodded at his words, showing that you heard and understood. “Now, when you fall back, I want you to say any word that comes to your mind first.”

You debated questioning his method but failed to speak before your body readied itself for the fall. Feet planted firmly on the ground, his hands slipped from your arms, a blank feeling numbing the chilled skin. His scent moved throughout the air when the breeze of the AC kicked in, feeling yourself grow more relaxed. Taking in a single deep breath, you heard his voice ring in your ears.

“Go.”

“Brick.”

You released the tension in your shoulders when you felt the short beat of wind, his arms instinctively catching you. Holding you at an inclined angle, your eyes opened before you even realized you shut them, the angle strange. His hair brushed over his eyebrows, flowing lightly from the extra breeze you created when you fell. A wide grin on his face, you couldn’t speak words, mesmerized by the way his eyes glistened behind his glasses when he noticed how calm you were in his grasp.

“You did it,” he said softly, pumps of his warm breath across your scalp as he lifted you back up on your feet. “When you feel uncomfortable, but are unable to explain it, say that word and i’ll know to stop any part of the session. It’s your safe-word.” Steady, his hands moved from beneath your underarms, drifting over the spots he continuously made contact with before removing his touch entirely. “Why brick?” he asked, your chuckle making his head turn.

“Your office walls are brick.” his eyes glazed over the room.

“I’m so used to it now, I don’t even notice.” his throat cleared with a cough. “Why don’t we take a seat?” he offered, hand gesturing towards the two chairs near the wall.

Sitting in a different position than the first session, you didn’t know how to react. Body stiff in the chair, it took seconds for him to notice. Glasses slipping down his nose, his index finger lifted them back up, peering over your hesitant state.

A smile lifted on his lips, standing before you and placing his hands on the arms of his chair. Pulling at them, he slid his seat towards you, legs on either side of your own. Features soft, he placed his hand on your knee. A breath you didn’t know you were holding in escaped, a laugh coming from him.

“Tell me when something is bothering you. Even if it’s small, I need to know or else the entire process following this session will do nothing but put panic inside of you,” he said, the hand on your knee squeezing lightly as he spoke. “Are you still bound?”

“Yes.”

“Then this will truly benefit you.”

-

“How long has it been since you last had sex?” he asked, your body placed itself in the thin chair stationed in the middle of his office.

“Uh- maybe like four or five months.” you stuttered, his voice lower today than it usually was.

“Is that a normal time frame for you to sleep with someone?”

“I usually don’t sleep with someone outside of a relationship.”

You heard him hum, sight blinded by the silk around your head. This was another exercise, the third session kicking off with an immersing atmosphere.

“Your responses are stronger with the blindfold on,” he stated, your breath hitching when he tugged at the small knot below the crown of your head. “This means you feel more confident when you cannot see what lies ahead of you.”

“Isn’t that backward?” you questioned lightly.

He chuckled, thumb running along the hair on your head as he pulled away from you. “In some ways, yes. Most people find confidence in knowing what they are meant to do. You are the same, long hours of work and life putting your body at an expense. But within a sensual state - such as being blindfolded - you enjoy not having knowledge of what you could face.”

“A-And that’s not a bad thing?” you asked, voice slightly hoarse hearing him speak.

“Not at all.” he chimed, wood clinking under his weight as he sat onto his desk, unknown by you. “We’ve already made progress, and it’s only been the first ten minutes. I requested that you tie the blindfold onto yourself, and you didn’t have any comments or questions when doing so. Do you feel alright?”

“I feel fine.”

“Is this another one of your ‘You’re a professional, I’m just following your orders.’ ordeals?” he joked, the grin and flash of his teeth something you could only feel in the air.

Hard seat below compared to the soft seats he usually had in his office, you were growing uncomfortable. Fully in his knowledge, your subtle movements caught on. Your words weren’t forced, but your body rocked stiffly in the metal chair, the back rough on your muscles.

“What have I told you?” his voice wasn’t soft, more demanding than you expected to hear suddenly. “Speak up.”

You hadn’t said anything, but you knew what he was attributing.

“This chair is too hard. It’s making me sore.”

“What can you do about that?” he asked in a higher pitch.

He was mocking your cumbersomeness.

“I-I can,” stammering, you tried to feel out the chair. No ties to it, only around your face, but you didn’t know how far you were allowed to move.

He could sense your disquietness in the air.

“Do you trust me?”

“Y-Yes, of course.”

“Then what can you do?”

You contemplated his tone. He was right, you trust him; you don’t fear him. Taking in a deep breath, your shoes pulled at the wooden floor below you, lifting your body up. Without one of your senses, you maneuvered strangely, arms out trying to find surrounding objects. You felt like an idiot, listening for his reaction only to receive silence. “Is this part of the exercise?” you whispered, the room still silent.

The blindfold over your face was tight, something you did on accident. He had gestured you into his office with only one sentence. “Put this on.” his face expressionless when you followed his instructions.

Hands dangling from your wrists, the air around you seemed to fall blank, not a single piece of furniture or your therapist around. You felt lost, a sudden rush of worry moving through your body, face growing pale. You stopped in place, trying to hear his breathing, him moving - anything, but nothing came through. Shifting to your left quickly, your legs hit against something, falling forward.

“Hoseok!” crying out, an arm wrapped securely around your waist, pulling you to stand up straight.

Back flat against his front, your heart raced in your chest at the same speed as if you had walked out in front of a car. Meanwhile, his heartbeat was as rhythmic as a performance, hot breath on the back of your neck. Free hand pulling at the knot of the blindfold around your head, your eyes shot open to see the bright room, windows covered with white curtains glistening in the sunlight. He held you to him, your body shaking.

“What the fuck was that?” you asked, tilting your head to the side to see his face.

“You were unsure of yourself the entire time.”

“That’s obvious.”

“No, it’s not. You’re like this in regular situations, but when you get put into a space where you’re the only one that can decide the moves, you lose your footing. Quite literally. If this were a sexual situation, you would have found yourself entirely uncomfortable, and you wouldn’t have spoken up about it until someone caught on to your uncomfortable state.”

“You caught me,” you said angrily, eyes dark and boring into his.

“You fell over my desk.” his words made you blink up at him, peering around where you stood.

Waltzing blindly around his office, you had managed to make your way toward him, your hamstrings finding the wooden desk seconds before you fell over it.

“All you did was save me from getting stabbed by a few pens.” you scolded, moving from his grasp. “What the hell even was the point of that exercise?”

“Who said it ended?”

“I don’t understand you, but I can tell you’re getting off on this. Aren’t you?” your sudden change of demeanor made his eyes spark, tongue gliding over his bottom lip, chest puffing out with a full-toothed laugh.

“Oh my God, you really are getting off on this,” you said, eyes wide as you turned to face him.

Now cornered between him and his desk, the initial reason behind the exercise rose to a head. You weren’t in control of any of these sessions, only following him around blindly in the hopes that he knew how to fix your life. And it had become official, he had a hold around you like you never experienced.

He wore a grin, fully aware that you’ve now caught on to his act.

“I’ve never put two and two together,” you said softly, staring up at his face as his eyebrow cocked.

“What’s two and two?”

“That a sex therapist can also be a sadomasochist.”

His laugh sounded like he was singing, eyes dark even in the bright lights of his office. The house sat still, the large room closed during his sessions, but the overall building was a wonderland for activities.

“And you do it right here in your own home. You sick bastard.” you seethed, arousal kicking in the pit of your stomach as he nonchalantly placed his hand on the desk beside you.

Leaning directly into your face, the visual of a personal bubble would have popped long ago. Hair over his forehead, his glasses weren’t on his face today, contacts glistening over his irises. His stance was dominating, your form stuck between him and the wooden desk nearly declining from the suffocating atmosphere.

“Suddenly you believe you have everything figured out, huh?” his tongue clicked, a sound that made your body shudder. “How is it that you come into my office without a single trace or idea of what you want or who you are, yet now you put your foot down and send out accusations of me like you know everything in my head? Have my exercises really opened you up this much?”

His confidence was almost sickening, your knees growing weak at his loose words. He had you on a leash and knew when to tug on it to choke you.

“No, your work is just a puzzle that I solved a little earlier than most do. I guess.” you beckoned.

With quick movements, his thigh was placed between your legs, hand moving around your arm just below the space he had held during the trust fall. His bottom lip moved between his teeth, eyes holding open like he couldn’t stop thinking.

“I said you don’t have to behave, but you do need to continue to follow my instructions. We’re not done yet.”

“Why should I keep feeding your twisted mind? Huh?” you growled, watching him boil behind his glare.

“Because, believe me, this will truly benefit both of us.” a line he repeated. His lip was swollen from where he had bitten it, the delectable looking skin begging for you to do something else to rile him up.

One sharp tug and the hand around your arm was growing tighter, his jaw clenched. He was losing his patience with you, face depleted of color. Picking up the silk blindfold on the desk, his fingers wrapped it back around your head. You submitted to the actions, deciding now was a good time to let go. His knot was loose compared to your own earlier, the silk daring to slip down to your nose at any point.

You were once again under his complete control, the leg between yours no longer soothing as it pressed up against you. Letting out a puff of air, you tried to steady yourself, his force nearly making you faint. Little friction to your clothed crotch, your body stilled against the desk, his hands moving to your hips to sit you down onto the wooden furniture.

It was as if every sense left your body at once, ringing in your ears deafening you, your nose filled with nothing but his scent, eyes covered, the taste of nothing but your own saliva, touch centered on his thigh grinding up against you. A moan passed your lips, his arm on the desk becoming a reinforcement as your hand gripped at it.

“Still bound?” his tone ruminant.

“Mmh,” you whined out, his thigh only digging at you harder. Jolting your sense back like a switch. “W-What?”

“In a trance?” he snickered. “I’ve barely applied any pressure.”

Your head fell back, neck bared under his thick gaze. Thigh delivering more friction, your breath caught in your throat, gasping for air as he pulled his leg away from you altogether. A whine developed on your tongue, his thumb pressing against your chin with a firm hold.

“Do not whine at me.” his voice was low, soft.

Occupied with something you couldn’t see, you felt his body heat diminish from around you. The room grew cold, chills running along your skin as you waited for him to return. You felt something brush up against your leg, his hand placed beside you as his other pulled you forward, legs fully over the edge of his desk.

“So.” he began. “You’ve learned my secret. How about I learn one of yours?”

“Like what?”

“What turns you on the most?” his voice was faint, your ears falling silent as he slid in two earbuds. Music loudly played within them, jazz music filling your ears.

“How am I supposed to reply like this?” you asked, unable to hear his voice.

His cologne was still strong in your nostrils, the scent keeping you attentive. Body heat warmer than before, your words drifted off as you mumbled, trying to think up an answer.

“I-I don’t know.” you quietly wailed.

Your thoughts were overstocked by the music, eyes covered putting you in more of a vulnerable state than when the session began. Hoseok stood near you, you could feel him off to your side, but his part in the exercise seemed absent. Mind hastening to find an answer, nothing came to the front, your tongue lapping at the roof of your mouth in an apprehensive way.

His hand pressed against your thigh, lightly squeezing to let you know he was there, paying attention. His slight touch cleared your body.

“Noise,” you whispered, knowing he heard you well compared to hearing your own voice over the beat of the music. “Praise. An emotional connection.”

His hand released the tight hold on your thigh, running up and down your leg, acknowledging your response. His motions were permanent.

“Pain.”

The word made him stop in his tracks, pulling one of the earbuds playing the music out of your ear, the piece sliding past your shoulder and down your chest. Hot breath on the side of your face, his hand rose to take out the other earbud, catching your neck instead.

“You like pain?” the question didn’t sound like a question, but a note he had been waiting to hear. “Then let us begin.”

-

Time moves slower than you anticipated, a lesson you’ve begun to learn thanks to him. The windows were shut, doors locked, the room silent. Distant breaths in your ear made you stay alert, the man pacing around you expertly.

“Are you sure about this?” his voice resonated off the blank walls of the room. “The pain is frequent; maybe overbearing.”

He was cautious, but the tone in his voice was elusive, sensual. This wasn’t your first session, nor your last. Eyes covered with a thick blindfold, his movements weren’t traceable. Your breathing hitched as his hand flattened on your chest, feeling the beat of your heart pounding. With the click of his tongue, he knew you were ready.

It was already his favorite part, loud pants blowing at the hair on your head a clear sign. With a single push of his index and thumb, the clamp opened and aligned with your sensitive nipple. Clenching down with a tight-gripped force, you hissed at the unfamiliar pain. Fighting through it, your breathing stuttered for a moment, his call to you quick.

“Deep breaths. Use your safe word if you need to.” his deep voice rattled, but you knew your instructions. “I’ve never had a patient request to skip the first sexual session.”

“I’ve never had sexual interaction with a sex therapist,” you admitted, a fact he already knew.

“Rightfully so. It’s not a normal occurrence to have a physical, sexual relationship with me at all.” his tongue clicked watching you pant from the force clinging around your sensitive nipples. “Thankfully, I’m a freelance therapist.”

“That makes you sound unauthorized.” you sighed, listening to his content voice reply to you.

His fingers played with the clamps, your reaction of a light gasp made him press onto them harder, a smirk unseen on his lips. Caressing your chest, your nipples perked more, the beat of your heart thumping in the room like a mantra.

“I would never lie about my career.” his voice was stable, calculating the way your hips jolted in the uncomfortable seat.

The sound of his breathing diminished, the lingered state of confusion and loneliness broadening your senses; his game. With the air around you cold, still, you grew numb, the exposure of your bare top making chills prickle your skin.

“H-Hoseok?” you asked softly, his hand pressing at the base of your neck, pulling you to straighten yourself out against the same chair from his office.

His hands were frigid, the touch like ice making you moan and comply with his silent demand. Your back went flat against the metal chair, the coolness of the furniture causing you to be on alert. His rough touch moved over your shoulder, thumb pressing into the patch of skin below your ear, your hearing on high.

“Are you in pain?” he asked, the clamps on your chest squeezing tighter, your squeak the only reply he needed to press down onto them again. A wave of arousal ran through you.

“Y-Yes, but it feels nice.”

“You look pathetic,” he growled, hand moving around your neck, fingers enclosing on the sides.

A light click caught your ears, a vibration against your thigh making you rock in your seat, his name falling from your lips.

“Hoseok.” your voice scratchy, thirst-driven, but he sounded displeased.

“You still won’t listen to my directions.” his voice lowered an octave, the clamp on your right nipple discarded with a painful pull, tossed onto the solid ground with a thud.

The little bullet was placed on your right nipple, the sensation causing your breathing to speed up, heart rate that of a rabbit’s. His body heat covered the same side of your body. His crouched knee pressed between both of your legs once again, only in a different scenario.

“Does this feel nice?” he asked, your nod leading to the bullet being pulled away, your nipple caught in between his middle finger and thumb with a tight grasp.

“Ow!” you whined, “That hurts more than the clamps!”

“Good.” he gritted, ripping the silk blindfold off of your head with the pulsating vibrator still in his hand.

Your eyes met his black ones, the irises filled with more might than you had ever witnessed, his bottom lip between his teeth. Shirt unbuttoned down his front, his abs were in your sight, glistening with a thin coat of sweat from the scene.

“What is my number one rule?” he asked, head tilted enough for his glasses to slide a bit on his nose.

“Tell you when something makes me uncomfortable.” his tongue clicked, head nodding in tandem.

“Tell me when something makes you uncomfortable. And what did you fail to do?”

“But I told yo-”

“Not the first time, you didn’t,” he growled, form suddenly towering over you, his hand pulling the clamp on your left nipple away to feel the divots in your skin with his fingertips. “So, what am I going to do about that?”

“Punish me until I learn.” your question sounded like a statement, a demand made in the position you couldn’t make decisions in.

“Like this?” he asked, one swift movement until the vibrations from the toy were between your legs, your hands held behind the back of the seat unclasping. “Another rule you didn’t follow.” he disgruntled. “Put your hands back where I had them.”

“I think you take this 'sadomasochism-obedience-domination’ shit too seriously.” you simmered between pants, cheeks turning red under his intense stare.

“Do you think so?” his mocked tone irked you, foot pressing behind his calve as you attempted to pull him forward.

With his left hand occupied, the vibrator still sending shocks of pleasure through you, his right hand wrapped around your ankle, pulling you from the chair in one fellow swoop.

“Understand now why I had your hands clamped.” his voice turned gentle, staring down at your pained state.

Hand pressed against the back of your head from the knock against the chair’s leg when he pulled you down, his hand moved from your ankle to the same spot, caressing it gently.

“If you don’t follow my orders,” voice soft as pillows. “Then you won’t know how to follow someone else’s. It takes only seconds to cause pain to another human being, on purpose or unintentionally.”

Your breath hitched in your throat, the vulnerable state he put you in once again flying over your head, still under the influence that he knew what he was doing. His lessons were finally beginning to sear into your brain, though unfinished.

Leaning down to be eye-to-eye with you, his hot breath fanned your face. Hand still equipt with the vibrator, the device was swapped onto a higher setting, electric shocks charging through you. Sprawled out against the wooden floor of the barren room, your eyes shut, enjoying his dominance over you.

“You do understand why this is how it works, correct?” his tongue poked out of his mouth, hunched state bringing him even closer to you.

Your naked upper-body shivered in his hold, his eyes glancing over your face for any type of response that isn’t arousal-driven. You could hardly respond, on the brink of your orgasm. He pulled the toy away, eyes stern above you.

“I can’t let you finish.” his voice just above a whisper.

Your head fell back against the floor, a defeated groan escaping. “Why not?” your voice sounding like a whine, he sent you a cold look; whining being one of his peeves.

“Because then I’d want to do it over and over again, and that’s not allowed.” his arm sat you upright before him, pulling his button-up shirt off his torso and around your cold frame. “In my state of responsibility, we cannot surpass that boundary.”

“Haven’t we already passed the normal therapist-patient boundary?” your voice was curious, his eyes worried.

“Yes, but that’s as far as I ever go. Once I surpass that boundary, it’s no longer a competent case.”

“Then what is it?”

“Feelings.”


End file.
